One cannot discuss the Church’s view of productivity, especially historically, without taking into account how society at large perceives practical knowledge. Only recently has technology become a major topic of discussion. Yet there is no humanity without craftsmanship and, more specifically, without tools. Although tools are widespread in the animal world, what distinguishes humans is the fact that they construct tools using other tools, and that their environment is characterized by the presence of numerous artifacts that form the basis of various evolutionary lines. Productivity and its various expressions are thus part of the background noise of civilizations, and therefore do not attract much attention. They do not, however, escape human judgment, particularly that of philosophers. For the ancients, in this case Plato, they constitute “the knowledge necessary for daily life,”[1] but remain confined to the material world.
Christianity, by valuing work and asserting that human beings can collaborate in creation, will turn the tables. Subsequently, modernity will profoundly renew the conception of productivity and lead to the ideology of progress. The latter would eventually clash with the growing awareness of ecological challenges, which would lead to an update of the theological interpretation. Scientific knowledge and its use are a more decisive issue than ever for contemporary society.
Productive Knowledge According to the Ancients and According to Christianity
Obviously, the ancients were not unaware of the importance of craftsmanship for the human condition. Indeed, they believed that it was an exclusively human attribute. The myth of Prometheus and the forgetful Epimetheus, who left humanity without resources, highlights the necessity of fire and skill for the survival of the animal-man. These will later be interpreted based on the opposition between the sublunary world and the celestial world: a fundamental opposition in Greek thought, both classical and Hellenistic. The arts or techniques are linked exclusively to the sublunary world, the one where contingency reigns; they are matters concerning farmers, artisans and slaves. In contrast, the sciences pursue the true and the necessary; directed toward the celestial and divine world, they are the preserve of a spiritual and social aristocracy, and for the ancients, the two are closely connected.
Everything changed with the advent of Christianity. The contrast with Greek and Latin antiquity was stark, at least in terms of principles. The world was created; it is the work of a God who sent his Son to Earth and, moreover, made him a craftsman. Medieval Christianity would adopt the Ptolemaic cosmology, inspired by Aristotle, but it would not be spared criticism. Indeed, cenobitic monasticism would assert that God is praised through work, especially in the fields: this is the ora et labora of the Rule of Saint Benedict of Norcia. The Order of the Victorines, particularly through Hugh of Saint Victor, would attempt to connect the farmer and the philosopher. The homo laborans would be declared a cooperator Dei (drawing inspiration from 1 Cor 3:9 and 2 Cor 6:1). Monks, in fact, would greatly develop and disseminate agricultural, architectural and artisanal techniques.
Modernity and the Ideology of Progress
With the advent of modernity in the early 16th century, marked by the “great discoveries” and the first wave of globalization, a new rupture occurred: the role assigned to productivity changed once again. The idea that productive knowledge governs existence was still shared by medieval people, but for modern people, the sciences would have to play a different, far more ambitious role: to transform, or rather, to transfigure, the human condition. This new mission is inseparable from an unprecedented intertwining of science and technology. With modern physics, science no longer stands in opposition to productive knowledge, but nourishes and sustains it. It can now rely on knowledge of the laws of nature and no longer depends solely on experience, but is founded on abstract and formal knowledge. In these circumstances, Pelagius’ dream takes on new meaning.[2] With Francis Bacon (1561-1626), in particular, the nascent science is conceived as the promise of a return to Eden, to the human perfection that preceded original sin.[3] Understood in this way, Pelagianism would permeate modernity and, more specifically, the traditions of left-wing political thought. It would form the basis of what is commonly called the “modern ideology of progress,” according to which advances in knowledge, with their technical and industrial implications, can only lead to a general improvement in the human condition, if not outright happiness.
This modernity divides Catholicism, just as Catholicism had divided society. Throughout the 19th century, supporters and critics of productivity clashed fiercely. Among the former were the liberals (mostly bourgeois engaged in the industrial enterprise) and the Gallicans[4] (including many “concordat” bishops, who did not think twice about blessing new industrial works in the same way that cathedrals were blessed in the Middle Ages). Among the latter were intransigent Catholics – from Louis Veuillot to Léon Bloy – or ultramontanes, nostalgic for traditional agricultural methods, as well as social Catholics protesting against workers’ poverty. These controversies were not confined to the press: they spread depending on the technologies and their respective spheres. They divided consciences, even those of the popes. Pius IX, for example, condemned “modernist ideas” with the famous Syllabus of 1864, but at the same time developed railway lines and telegraphic connections in the Papal States.
As these techniques are adopted in various settings, compromises are reached at the local level. In this regard, specialized Catholic action, which emerged in the 20th century, plays a key role. Social Catholics are particularly active in vocational training to support young workers and combat the monopoly of the secular state. In France, the Union sociale des ingénieurs catholiques (USIC, which became the Mouvement des cadres et dirigeants chrétiens in 1966, then the Mouvement chrétien des cadres et dirigeants in 1988), founded in 1906, promoted “the social role of the engineer” as an arbiter between capital and labor in the name of science and social doctrine. During the economic crisis of 1929, the Confédération de l’artisanat familial de France provided moral and financial support to many artisans.
It was Pius XII, a witness to the development of technical progress as well as to the horrors of war, who became the champion of this compromise. No pope has ever written so much about technical matters. Pius XII distinguished between technical productions that seek to emulate God’s creative act and “the technical spirit,” which stems from “a sense of self-sufficiency and the satisfaction of its aspirations for boundless knowledge and power.”[5] In his Christmas radio message of 1953, the pope stated: “Nevertheless, it seems undeniable that technology itself, having reached the height of its splendor and efficiency in our century, has, due to the circumstances of the times, become a grave spiritual danger. It seems to instill in modern man, prostrate before its altar, a sense of self-sufficiency and the fulfillment of his boundless aspirations for knowledge and power. Through its manifold applications, the absolute trust it commands, and the inexhaustible possibilities it promises, modern technology unfolds before contemporary man a vision so vast that many confuse it with the infinite itself. Consequently, an impossible autonomy is attributed to it, which in turn transforms in the minds of some into a mistaken conception of life and the world, designated by the name of ‘technical spirit’.”[6] The pontiff denounced “the technical age,” which “will accomplish its monstrous masterpiece of transforming man into a giant of the physical world at the expense of his spirit, reduced to a pygmy of the supernatural and eternal world,”[7] and advocated for technology in the service of humanity.
From Optimism to Concern About Technology
The second half of the 20th century marked another turning point. In its early stages, with the rise of the proletariat, industrialization had by no means led to an improvement in the human condition. The Marxist interpretation of history, however, sought to present the proletariat as a transitional phase, full of promise for humanity, and to divert attention from the ecological damage caused by industry. World War I had demonstrated the destructive power of technoscience on the battlefield. Hiroshima proved that technoscience had acquired the capacity to destroy nothing less than human beings. But the benefits of the Trente Glorieuses[8] –in terms of full employment, reduced inequality, and increased well-being, as far as the Western world was concerned – pushed the atomic threat into the background, even though it was highlighted by Pope John XXIII in the encyclical Pacem in Terris (PT): “Consequently people are living in the grip of constant fear. They are afraid that at any moment the impending storm may break upon them with horrific violence. And they have good reasons for their fear, for there is certainly no lack of such weapons. While it is difficult to believe that anyone would dare to assume responsibility for initiating the appalling slaughter and destruction that war would bring in its wake, there is no denying that the conflagration could be started by some chance and unforeseen circumstance” (PT 111).
In reality, aside from this genuine concern regarding nuclear weapons, John XXIII appears quite confident about the possibilities offered by technology, particularly with regard to agricultural development. In the 1961 encyclical Mater et Magistra (MM), while recalling that technology must remain a means, he speaks of the need for “a renewed scientific and technical effort to deepen and extend its dominion over nature” in order to meet the challenges posed by underdevelopment and the demographic problem. He adds: “The progress of science and technology that has already been achieved opens up almost limitless horizons” (MM 176). In Pacem in Terris as well, he expresses a positive view of technology, a sign of “the greatness of man” and of “the infinite greatness of God Himself, who created both man and the universe.” (PT 3), recommending that “moral goodness and the cultivation of religious values keep pace with scientific knowledge and continually advancing technical progress” (PT 153).
Catholics’ optimism regarding technology was amplified by the Second Vatican Council. The pastoral constitution Gaudium et Spes (GS) affirms the value of human activity and recognizes the legitimate autonomy of earthly realities (cf. GS 36), entrusted primarily to the laity (cf. GS 43). Critics’ accusations are reframed as questions (cf. GS 56). Economic development is deemed necessary due to population growth and the aspirations of peoples: “The fundamental finality of this production is not the mere increase of products nor profit or control but rather the service of man, and indeed of the whole man with regard for the full range of his material needs and the demands of his intellectual, moral, spiritual and religious life; this applies to every man whatsoever and to every group of men, of every race and of every part of the world”(GS 64). The term would be popularized, under the name “integral development,” by Paul VI’s encyclical Populorum Progressio (PP), a veritable charter for Christians who have dedicated themselves to the service of development throughout the world.
However, beginning in the 1970s, the growing ecological challenges brought the threats facing humanity back into sharp focus. As the philosopher Hans Jonas demonstrates in an important book,[9] the threat no longer stems solely from military conflict. In a sense, it arises from the very benefits of industrial society, namely, the unlimited consumption that such a society makes possible. Furthermore, the systematic nature of technical activities breathes new life into old debates among Catholics. Proponents of progress see their heroes, encouraged by the International Conference of Catholic Employers’ Associations (UNIAPAC), happy to regain a place within the Church hierarchy after a long period of mistrust on the part of the bishops, who were concerned about the working class. Critics, for their part, defend radical positions such as those of Lanza del Vasto, who disseminates Gandhi’s ideas in France, Ivan Illich, an academic, and Jacques Ellul, a professor of law and Protestant theologian.
In 1971, Paul VI expressed in his apostolic letter Octogesima Adveniens (OA) his fear of “a more accentuated sliding toward a new positivism: universalized technology as the dominant form of activity, as the overwhelming pattern of existence, even as a language, without the question of its meaning being really asked” (OA 29). Ten years later, John Paul II, in his encyclical Laborem Exercens (LE), clarified: “Understood […] as a whole set of instruments which man uses in his work, technology is undoubtedly man’s ally. It facilitates his work, perfects, accelerates and augments it. It leads to an increase in the quantity of things produced by work, and in many cases improves their quality. However, it is also a fact that, in some instances, technology can cease to be man’s ally and become almost his enemy, as when the mechanization of work ‘supplants’ him, taking away all personal satisfaction and the incentive to creativity and responsibility, when it deprives many workers of their previous employment, or when, through exalting the machine, it reduces man to the status of its slave” (LE 5).
John Paul II’s critique of technology becomes even more pointed in his 1981 encyclical Centisimus Annus (CA), due to the risks associated with weapons that transform technology into an “instrument of war” (CA 18), anti-natalist policies that “are extending their field of action by the use of new techniques, to the point of poisoning the lives of millions of defenseless human beings, as if in a form of ‘chemical warfare’” (CA 39), and ecological challenges. In the encyclical Dives in Misericordia (DM), John Paul II emphasizes the benefits of technical progress, while once again highlighting its dangers: “The technical means at the disposal of modern society conceal within themselves not only the possibility of self-destruction through military conflict, but also the possibility of a ‘peaceful’ subjugation of individuals, of environments, of entire societies and of nations, that for one reason or another might prove inconvenient for those who possess the necessary means and are ready to use them without scruple. An instance is the continued existence of torture, systematically used by authority as a means of domination and political oppression and practiced by subordinates with impunity” (DM 10-11).
Subsequently, Benedict XVI devotes the entire sixth chapter of the encyclical Caritas in Veritate (CV) to development and technology. In it, he reaffirms the ambivalence of technology (cf. CV 14; 70), which “touches the heart of the vocation of human labour” and “expresses the inner tension that impels him gradually to overcome material limitations” (CV 69), but which must not be absolutized, so as to avoid confusing ends with means. “Idealizing technical progress, or contemplating the utopia of a return to humanity’s original natural state, are two contrasting ways of detaching progress from its moral evaluation and hence from our responsibility” (CV 14).
Concerned about the “technocratic culture” (CV 70), present both in the media and in biotechnology applied to human beings, Benedict XVI proposes a “new humanistic synthesis”: “The development of individuals and peoples is likewise located on a height, if we consider the spiritual dimension that must be present if such development is to be authentic. It requires new eyes and a new heart, capable of rising above a materialistic vision of human events, capable of glimpsing in development the ‘beyond’ that technology cannot give. By following this path, it is possible to pursue the integral human development that takes its direction from the driving force of charity in truth” (CV 77). For “human freedom is authentic only when it responds to the fascination of technology with decisions that are the fruit of moral responsibility” (CV 70). Especially with regard to the field of biotechnology, Benedict XVI calls for a shift from a “reason closed within immanence” to a “reason open to transcendence” (CV 74).
Environmental Concerns and Criticism of the Technocratic Paradigm
Since the publication of the Meadows Report[10] by the Club of Rome, nothing has refuted the observation that industrial society is destructive when left to its own devices. Greenhouse gas emissions have continued to rise; climate threats, the destruction of numerous living populations, and biodiversity loss have persisted; tensions over certain resources are beginning to be felt with increasing intensity. The spread of digital technologies has added further threats to humanity: that of a generalized loss of intelligence, and that of a qualitative and physical destruction of humanity. The idea that our industrial societies are collapsing has become widely accepted, even among some committed Christians.
It is against this highly dramatic backdrop that Pope Francis wrote the encyclical Laudato Si’ (LS), which addresses ecological issues in their proper context: that of an unprecedented crisis of civilization. Rooted in the awareness of a close link between the cry of the earth and the cry of the poor, the encyclical shows how ecological and social problems are two sides of the same coin.
While not rejecting technology outright (cf. LS 102–103), Pope Francis is alarmed by the power offered by “nuclear energy, biotechnology, information technology, knowledge of our own DNA, and many other abilities which we have acquired.” This power is misused when it is concentrated in the hands of the wealthiest (cf. LS 104) and when “immense technological growth has not been accompanied by a development in human responsibility, values and conscience” (LS 105), capable of limiting technology (cf. LS 112). Francis denounces the domination exercised over human beings and nature by an “undifferentiated and one-dimensional” techno-economic paradigm, which leads to the prioritization, in every sphere of life, of a “logical and rational process” (LS 106). This process “progressively approaches and gains control over an external object,” as in the “the scientific and experimental method, which in itself is already a technique of possession, mastery and transformation;” “it is as if the subject were to find itself in the presence of something formless, completely open to manipulation” (ibid.). A “technical thought” (LS 115) or a “utilitarian mindset” (LS 210; 219) becomes the sole reference point, “the principal key to the meaning of existence” (LS 110).
This paradigm spreads the “lie that there is an infinite supply of the earth’s goods” and “tends to ignore or forget the the reality in front of us” (LS 106). Faced with the dangerous and destructive deception of the unlimited availability of all things, Francis calls for “moderation” (LS 222), and even for “some reasonable limits” (LS 193). This same paradigm turns everything into waste, both human beings and things (cf. LS 123). The pope denounces the “myth of progress” and those who “claim that ecological problems will be resolved simply through new technical applications” (LS 60; cf. LS 14 and 111).
Francis obviously invites us to re-read the Old Testament texts upon which our relationship with nature has been founded, both theologically and practically. Humanity as imago Dei, called to rule over all living things on Earth (cf. Gen 1:26–28), must be understood in light of the intrinsic value of creation, a value affirmed even before the coming of humankind (cf. Gen 1:31 and Gen 2:15). Francis also invites us to recognize the earthly origins of the first human couple, as well as those of other creatures (cf. Gen 2:7), dear to Francis of Assisi. “The universe,” writes the pope, “unfolds in God, who fills it completely. Hence, there is a mystical meaning to be found in a leaf, in a mountain trail, in a dewdrop, in a poor person’s face” (LS 233).
We therefore observe that our relationship with nature and with ourselves depends on our conceptions of technology and our expectations regarding it. It makes no sense to pit technology against humanity. Every civilization interconnects nature, technology and humanity. The mechanistic paradigm underpinned modernity; today we reject it and seek to put an end to the harmful separation from nature that it has produced. This is a radical cultural shift, one that calls for us to rethink the questions we ask about the role and limits of technology. Believing in its omnipotence, as if it were the alpha and omega of all things, has led us, in conjunction with the market, to the impasse in which we find ourselves. One sign of this shift is the interest shown in low-tech,[11] which seeks to place complexity no longer in the object itself, but in the analysis of the relationships that the object can foster with the environment and with other species, as well as with our sisters and brothers in humanity.
Pope Leo XIV seems to be heading precisely in this direction when he writes in the apostolic exhortation Dilexi Te (DT): “The acceleration of technological and social change in the past two centuries, with all its contradictions and conflicts, not only had an impact on the lives of the poor but also became the object of debate and reflection on their part. The various movements of workers, women and young people, and the fight against racial discrimination, gave rise to a new appreciation of the dignity of those on the margins of society. […] The epochal change we are now undergoing makes even more necessary a constant interaction between the faithful and the Church’s Magisterium, between ordinary citizens and experts, between individuals and institutions. Here too, it needs to be acknowledged once more that reality is best viewed from the sidelines, and that the poor are possessed of unique insights indispensable to the Church and to humanity as a whole”(DT 82).
Reproduced with permission by La Civilta Cattolica.
DOI: https://doi.org/10.32009/22072446.0526.9
[1]. Plato, Protagoras.
[2]. In response to Manichaean pessimism, the monk Pelagius (350-420) believed that every Christian could attain holiness through their own efforts. Or at least that is how Augustine understood it.
[3]. Cf. F. Bacone, Nuovo organo, Milan, Bompiani, 2002.
[4]. These are the French Catholics who claimed to defend the rights and privileges of the Church of France and opposed the ultramontane Catholics, who were close to the Church of Rome.
[5]. Pius XII, Radio Message for Christmas 1953, at www.vatican.va/content/pius-xii/it/speeches/1953/documents/hf_p-xii_spe_19531224_che-abitava.html
[6]. Ibid.
[7]. Ibid.
[8]. This refers to the “glorious thirty years” of economic growth between 1945 and 1975, as it is known in France.
[9]. Cf. H. Jonas, Il principio responsabilità. Un’etica per la civiltà tecnologica, Turin, Einaudi, 2009.
[10]. The Meadows Report, named after its two main authors, Donella Meadows and Dennis Meadows, also known as The Limits to Growth or, more simply, as The Club of Rome Report, was published in 1972. Updates were published in 1992, 2004, and 2012. It can be viewed at https://www.donellameadows.org/wp-content/userfiles/Limits-to-Growth-digital-scan-version.pdf
[11]. This is the term used to describe sustainable, simple and resilient technologies. Cf. P. Bihouix, L’âge des low tech. Vers une civilisation techniquement soutenable, Paris, Seuil, 2014.
